


What We Do on the Weekends

by draugrsmutlord (draugrmemelord)



Category: FTL: Faster Than Light (Video Game)
Genre: "How the fuck do fuck", Aliens, Double Penetration, F/F, F/F/Other, First Time, Interspecies, Multi, Other, Strap-Ons, Threesome, Vibration, fanfic of a fanfic, i didn't proofread this, sexy minerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draugrmemelord/pseuds/draugrsmutlord
Summary: When Translator receives an exciting message, the first thing they want to do is share it with their girlfriends. After all, their complete lack of a sense of privacy has never gotten them into trouble before.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a nerd](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=a+nerd).
  * Inspired by [Paradox Flying](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788811) by [JaxxCapta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaxxCapta/pseuds/JaxxCapta). 



For what it was worth, Translator was very happy. Transmissions from Flock Tsunya were few and far between, but when they came through, it brightened the entire week. Kusy and Atryom, on a scouting mission, had come across an absolute landfall of scrap. Flock Tsunya would eat well for weeks to come, maybe even months.

They had to share the good news with their girlfriends, they just had to.

Respirators clutched tight in their hand, Translator took the stairs to the crew level three at a time. Ruwen’s room was the only one they knew by heart—every other crewmember, they had to think about where to find them. It helped that she had labeled the door, in flowery blue script, “RUWEN’S ROOM ”

Sometimes, Translator liked to imagine that written below it was “cute Lanius always welcome.”

They bounced on their heels as they tapped incessantly on the thick durasteel door, and as soon as Ruwen slid it to the side, dressed in only an open jacket, Translator thrust their arm out to offer the respirators.

They had squirmed past Ruwen before they started chirping all the exciting details about the transmission (such as which room they were in when the transmission came, and the coordinates it originated from) and, as it would happen, before they noticed Ruwen and Ariadne, at a level of clothing they had never seen them in.

Ariadne was on the cot, half-hidden under a thick blanket. When she pulled the blanket over her face, it only accentuated the odd protrusion at her waist, forming a tent in the blanket. And Ruwen, for her part, had no pants. Translator couldn’t remember the last time they had seen a non-Lanius without pants.

Ruwen opened her mouth to speak, but Translator won that race. “Ruwen, you’re naked!”

She slid the door shut, leaning against it. “You noticed.”

“Why are you naked?”

Ruwen looked past them, locking eyes with Ariadne. “No real reason, hon, just—”

“Oh, don’t tell them that,” Ariadne quipped, only lending to Translator’s curiosity. “Besides, why not let them in?”

Ruwen looked dumbfounded, standing there against the door with her hands on her hips. What was going through her mind, Translator often wondered? “I didn’t think you would, uh. I never—you, you know?”

“You never asked,” was Ariadne’s patient reply, already moving aside the blanket. Translator loved the purple shimmer of her carapace, but never pictured that it went all the way down. It was difficult to picture Ariadne in anything other than a dress or Ruwen’s clothes. Although, she wasn’t wearing _nothing_. The organic looking thing at her waist, secured with a few straps, was almost glaringly violet, matching Ariadne’s plating. It was a lot like…what was between Ruwen’s legs, although that was bright blue. This was strange.

Translator had a vague understanding of how these things worked, but had never seen it firsthand, and had certainly never taken part in it. Nor had any need to. But something about this moment felt right. When Ariadne asked if Translator wanted to see what Ruwen and Ariadne were up to on the weekends, they peeped in surprise. This was intensely personal, but they felt…they could be here. These were their girlfriends.

It took guidance, but in mere moments their forehead was between Ariadne’s legs. She had taken off the belt, and was holding Translator’s head by the sides. They were purring, sending shivers up her spine with the vibration. This was a comfortable place to be, and the little noises Ariadne would make when Translator nuzzled into the right spot encouraged them to purr even louder. Off to the side, Ruwen cuddled up to Ariadne, their foreheads pressed together as they held each other.

But loudest was when Ariadne whimpered out, “By the Stone,” pulling Translator’s face closer and tightening her legs, her toes curling against the repaired plates of Translator’s back. The noise that followed, indescribable, would haunt Translator’s daydreams as it had come to haunt Ruwen’s.

Translator lifted their head upon hearing Ruwen giggle, “That was quick.”

Ariadne’s response was a playful slap on Ruwen’s shoulder.

What came next, Translator was more prepared for. Only slightly.

“Are you sure you know how to put that on?” Ariadne whispered, smirking as she held Ruwen.

Translator fumbled with the straps of the contraption, tangled up in them. “Of course this one…this one is stuck.”

Their girlfriends both rose, Ariadne offering a “here, let me help you” and Ruwen pressing her forehead to Translator’s and humming.

“This one…doesn’t know what to do with their hands.” 

Ruwen wrapped one arm around Translator’s waist, grabbing their hand. “Translator, hon? I want you to know that if you start to get uncomfortable, just tell us, and we’ll stop.

The Lanius peeped, and the final strap was pulled into place.

Ruwen continued. “But I do think you’re gonna like this.”

And like it they did, after they’d gotten comfortable. They were worried that this would hurt Ariadne, but she assured them that she’d done it with Ruwen before—and in saying that, she flustered Ruwen considerably. Translator didn’t know why.

Ariadne’s back to Translator, their face buried in her neck, preening her. That tickled, but she didn’t protest. They could feel the way the straps shifted and pulled as Ariadne worked her hips—she was doing all the work. That was okay. Translator didn’t know what motions to do, anyways. Ruwen stood opposite Translator, pressed into Ariadne, and she definitely knew what she was doing. Foreheads pressing together, occasionally switching between Ariadne and Translator. Her hips rolled, her hands held Ariadne at the waist, and her voice shifted, much like Ariadne’s did.

Ariadne’s voice was Translator’s favorite part, the reason they purred. Full of breath, gasping, containing larger noises. They knew a word for this, one of their favorites in a particular Zoltan dialect. _Z’nakvemira_. The sigh of the universe. 

“Oh,” Ariadne gasped, leaning back into Translator. Her hands shifted, one holding tight to Ruwen and the other grasping Translator’s thigh, as her own thighs shook, legs wrapping around Ruwen’s waist. Her back arched, and she exhaled, “ _fuck_.”

Something about that caused Ruwen to go over the edge (and as Translator would come to learn, Ruwen usually finished just a few short moments after Ariadne made a noise like that), her hands reaching out. One held Ariadne’s, and the other held Translator’s. It was almost storybook, as she made a high-pitched noise in her throat, trembling.

And then all was still.

Translator thought they liked the weekends.


End file.
